


Started with a Kiss

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Gender Identity, High School, Love, M/M, Non-Binary Gender, Oral Sex, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In seventeen years, Butters has fallen in love with all kinds of girls, a superhero, and a robot, all of whom have broken his heart. He's also fallen in love with a boy, one who has failed to break his heart—until tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Started with a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the pronoun switching, Butters is not the slightest bit confused about his gender identity; he's perfectly happy with his own fluidity.
> 
> Written for the [South Park Kink Meme](http://southparkkink.livejournal.com)

Butters has a list of hobbies and interests for whenever he has to fill out a profile or form that asks for those things: music, movies, computer and video games, books. He's learned to keep it general and non-specific; reactions to _Hello Kitty Island Adventure_ taught him that. He's also learned to keep certain hobbies and interests out of public and official places: writing epitaphs (for himself, for people he likes, and sometimes even for people he doesn't like too much, if he's in a certain mood), playing dress-up (girls and supervillains are still his favorites), and the thing he likes best in all the world—falling in love.

In his seventeen years, Butters has fallen in love with all kinds of girls, his superhero nemesis, and even once with a robot.

All of them have broken his heart but he doesn't regret any of them, especially not the superhero, who only broke Butters' heart by not believing himself worthy of it. In fact, Butters would probably do it all again with each and every one of them.

Well, maybe not with the robot.

But only maybe not.

He's also fallen in love with a boy, one who has failed to break his heart—until tonight, he thinks.

It started with a kiss. Not with the boy, though: Butters' first kiss was eight years ago with a girl named Sally, to whom he paid five dollars for the privilege. Afterwards, he pretended to the fellas who'd helped him arrange it that everything was great, but he wasn't entirely sure about that. It took a few days for him to finally get Clyde alone and confess that he didn't know if he'd really been kissed yet, because Sally hadn't licked at his tongue the way Clyde said she would.

"I think it still counts," Clyde said, after giving it some thought. "But you should probably find someone to tongue-kiss you, just to be safe."

Since Clyde knew more about kissing that anyone Butters could think of, Butters said, "Will you do it?" Clyde didn't say anything right away, so Butters dug into his pocket. "I only have three dollars," he said, looking up from the money in his hand, "but I can give you the other two tomorrow, if that's okay?"

Clyde laughed then. "You don't need to pay me, man. I kiss for free. But, um, I don't know if it counts if it's two boys doing it." He got a serious look on his face as he explained, "Bebe told me when she and Wendy kiss, they just call it practice kissing and it doesn't really count. I think it has to be a boy and a girl."

"Oh." Butters' soaring hope dropped back down into the pit of his stomach. "Well, you're probably right." Clyde was the expert, after all.

Then Clyde's serious expression turned thoughtful. "But...do you still have that nightie from when you went undercover? And the wig with the green bows?"

"Oh—Marjorine?" Butters put on a thoughtful look, too, even tucking his curled fist under his chin to add to the effect. "Yeah, I think that might still be around."

"Well," Clyde said, "it would definitely count if you were a girl when we kissed."

Butters went straight home after school, right up to his room without stopping for a snack or anything, and got his dress-up box out of the closet. He lifted out Professor Chaos's uniform, careful not to tear any of the foil, set it aside, and reached back in for Marjorine's nightie. He didn't have her school clothes anymore, but he'd kept this. He held it up to his face, brushing his cheek against the satin for a moment before putting it in his backpack. Because of the haircut the girls had given her, Marjorine's hair was shorter now than when she'd worn the bows, but since Clyde asked for bows especially, Butters reached down to the bottom of the box and felt around until he found two of them.

He wanted to go over to Clyde's right away but it was laundry day, so he had to wait for the end of the load his mom had been nice enough to put in the washer for him ("Now don't ever say I never do anything for you, Butters!" she said, and of course he replied, "Why, I would never say that, Mom!"). When it was done, he moved everything into the dryer and waited for _that_ to be done so he could fold all the warm, fluffy clothes and towels and put them where they belong. And by then his dad was home and it was time for dinner.

It was spaghetti night and as Butters twirled the long strands of pasta onto his fork slowly, doing his best not to flick sauce everywhere, he cheerfully answered his dad's question about his day in great detail, including the part where he had regular milk instead of chocolate milk at lunch and the part where he rescued a spider in the boys' room, but leaving out the part where he asked Clyde to give him a real kiss.

Once his plate was clean and the table was cleared, there was nothing to stop Butters. He brushed his teeth three times because the sauce his mom put on the spaghetti was kind of stinky, even if it tasted good. When he was minty as could be, he got his backpack from his room and told his mom and dad he was going over to Clyde's to work on a project. He didn't say it was a school project, so he wasn't lying; if they assumed that part, well, Butters couldn't help the assumptions his folks made, could he?

Butters was polite as a princess when Mrs. Donovan opened the door. After she let him in, he waited just inside while she called Clyde for him.

Clyde didn't look as happy to see Butters as Butters felt to see Clyde, and he thought maybe Clyde was mad at him for not showing up right after school. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said.

He would have explained more about laundry day and spaghetti night, but Clyde said, "I didn't know you were coming."

"Oh, um." Butters felt his fists meet and rub together. He took them apart and put them behind his back, but they just did it again back there. "I just thought, after what we talked about at school and all, about, uh," he lowered his voice to a loud whisper, "Marjorine's—"

"You brought it?"

Butters looked down at Clyde's hand on his arm, then back up and nodded.

"Everything?" Clyde's hand tightened a little, but it didn't hurt.

Butters nodded again. "The bows—"

Clyde slid his hand down from Butters' arm, interlaced their fingers, and tugged Butters towards the staircase. "Mom, we're going to my room to work on something important!" he shouted as they started up. It made Butters smile to know that Clyde did think it was important, after all; and also that he didn't seem to want to outright lie to his folks, either. "So don't bother us, okay!"

In Clyde's room, Butters made Clyde close his eyes and turn around while he took off his own clothes and put on Marjorine's. He could do the nightie and the wig himself, but he wasn't sure what to do with the bows. He held one up to each side of his head, looking around for a mirror. When he didn't see one, he asked Clyde.

"What do you need a mirror for?" Clyde asked, turning around.

Butters thought about reprimanding him for doing that when Butters still could have been changing, but he wasn't really mad about it and making someone feel bad about something that didn't really hurt anyone wasn't very nice, even if it _was_ a grown-up thing to do. Kissing was also a grown-up thing and being turned into a man by a real kiss seemed more important than delivering a reprimand right now. So Butters smiled at Clyde and held out his hands, showing him the green bow in each one. "For these."

He was going to explain more, but Clyde said, "Here, let me," right away. Butters looked down as Clyde took the bows out of his hands, then up again as he felt Clyde's fingers nudging under his chin. Clyde's brow was knit in concentration as he gathered up some of Marjorine's hair for the first bow. Butters could tell that Clyde had never put a bow in a girl's hair before, but even though he wasn't nearly as quick or steady as the girls at Heidi's slumber party had been, he was taking it at least as seriously as they had. If Clyde was going to be as serious about the kiss as he was being about the bows, then Butters figured this was going to be a real good kiss.

After Clyde was done he stepped back to check out his work, hands on his hips as he looked pretty hard at Butters, harder than he ever had before. Yeah, Clyde was serious about this, all right. Butters pointed the "noses" of his bunny slippers together, hands holding each other behind his back to keep from rubbing his knuckles together, and felt his face get warm.

Then Clyde smiled. "Nice."

Face warming more, Butters smiled back, dropping his chin to his chest but still looking at Clyde. He scuffed one slipper, the thumbs of his still-clasped hands twirling around each other.

"Okay," Clyde said, stepping in close again. This time, instead of touching the hair or the bows, he put his hands on Butters' bare shoulders.

Butters got a jumpy feeling in his stomach because plenty of hands had been put on his shoulders, but none of them ever felt soft like this, the fingers just resting on him instead of digging in hard. His own fingers tightened around each other—which reminded him: "What should I do with my hands?"

"Oh." Clyde considered the question, taking it just as seriously as the bows. The jumping in Butters' stomach got worse; he hadn't known this was all going to be so serious. It wasn't like this at all when he kissed Sally. Maybe it was just part of how things are different when it's two boys kissing, instead of a boy and a girl.

But Butters was a girl for this, or at least he was supposed to be. That was the point of the bows, after all. So he told his stomach to settle down, and he was pretty proud of himself for remembering to do it inside his head, which was something he needed to do more often, he knew. He was so proud of himself he smiled and then Clyde smiled, too, probably because Butters did; and then Butters' stomach started jumping around again.

"Here." Clyde took his hands off Butters' shoulders and held them out, so Butters' untangled his fingers and put his hands in Clyde's. He thought they were going to hold hands when they kissed, but then Clyde put Butters' hands on his hips and put his own hands back on Butters' shoulders. "There are a lot of places you can put your hands when you kiss," he explained. Butters nodded to show he wasn't wasting Clyde's time, he was paying attention and taking this as seriously as Clyde was. "This time we'll do it like this."

Just as Butters opened his mouth to ask what Clyde meant by "this time," Clyde put his lips on Butters', and then his tongue was in Butters' mouth, licking at Butters' tongue. It was real slippery and felt kind of funny, but also kind of nice, and whatever was jumping around in Butters' stomach grew wings and started flapping around down there.

He kept his mouth open when Clyde's tongue slipped out and for a moment Clyde was breathing into him and Butters felt a little fluttery in his lungs.

Then Clyde moved back, hands still on Butters' shoulders, a little tighter but still not hurting. He looked at Butters until Butters felt his face getting hot again and he looked down. "Did I do it wrong?"

Clyde didn't say anything, so Butters checked to see if maybe Clyde was telling him something without words, like his folks sometimes do. Butters wished people would just use words when they want to say something, because isn't that what words are for? If that's what Clyde was doing, Butters couldn't tell when he looked at him. He reckoned he's just use words himself: "Was it bad?"

"It was different," Clyde said.

"Oh." Butters sighed and watched his hands toying with the hem of the nightie, which maybe hadn't worked after all. He thought Clyde's idea had been a good one. He still thought it was a good one, and decided he wasn't ready to give up yet. He looked Clyde square in the eye. "Can we try again? I can do it better!"

"No, it was good," Clyde said, which made Butters happy and a little sad at the same time, because he wanted to do it right...and he also wanted to do it again. "It was just different." A little crinkle appeared on Clyde's forehead, which Butters knew meant he was thinking extra hard. Butters kept quiet to let him think. "That thing you did at the end—I never had someone do that."

Butters didn't really know what Clyde was talking about; he didn't think he'd done anything at the end. "What do you mean?"

Clyde's expression got serious, more serious than Butters could remember seeing it. Boy, Butters knew this was important, but he didn't know kissing was such serious business. He sure had a lot to learn.

"You're not like the other girls, Marjorine."

Clyde's words sounded like they were supposed to be a joke and Butters was ready to laugh along with him—except that Clyde wasn't laughing.

"This time, you put your tongue in my mouth, okay?" Clyde stepped in close, putting his hands on Butters' waist this time. "But do that thing at the end again, too, okay?"

"Well, sure." Since Butters was going to be the one putting his tongue in, he figured he should put his hands on Clyde's shoulders, like Clyde had done. "Hey, Clyde?"

"Yeah?"

"I was just wondering—what thing is it that you want me to do?"

When Clyde leaned in and put his mouth against Butters', Butters reckoned Clyde thought the question was too dumb to answer and was expecting Butter to figure it out and catch up. But when he opened his mouth and got ready to stick out his tongue, Clyde breathed in and out real quick, stirring up the lung-flutters again.

"That, okay?" Clyde said when they were looking at each other. "Only longer. Like you did it before."

Butters nodded solemnly. This time when they kissed, he slid his tongue into Clyde's mouth and licked around, not just at Clyde's tongue but also at his teeth and the roof of his mouth, and when he didn't know what else to lick he tucked his tongue back into his own mouth; and then Butters kept his mouth open against Clyde's and, because he couldn't remember how long he'd done it the first time, counted to the good, round number of ten as he breathed.

Clyde's face looked as warm as Butters' felt when the kiss was over. He got even hotter when Clyde smiled and said, "Yeah, nice."

They practiced kissing a lot more, that night and other nights, too. They practiced so much that Butters' folks started asking questions that Butters couldn't get around without lying, and even though he knew they lied to him sometimes, that didn't mean he felt good about lying to them.

When Butters told Clyde that they couldn't keep pretending they were working on school projects anymore, Clyde looked real sad. But when Butters told him the idea he had, that he could come over after bedtime and climb in through Clyde's window, Clyde looked so happy that Butters felt the flutter-flappings in his belly even though they weren't kissing. He wanted to thank Eric for teaching him how to get in and out of people's windows without anyone having to know about it, but Eric would probably want to know why Butters was thanking him for that, and then Butters would just be back to lying. So he settled for thanking Eric in his heart and giving him an extra big smile when they passed in the hallway.

"You're a real good friend for helping me with this so much," Butters told Clyde one time. "I don't think any of the other fellas would have helped me this much." Clyde got kind of a funny look on his face at that. Butters didn't know what he'd said wrong, but he sure didn't want Clyde to feel bad, so he hurriedly added, "So I just want to say thank you, and if there's anything I can do to help you sometime, why, you just say the word, mister!"

Clyde hugged him at that, and Butters felt pretty good.

It was a while later that Clyde said, "I wish you could grow your hair longer, like it was when you came to school that time."

Butters didn't know if that was something that would help Clyde, but he saved his money anyhow and got a new wig with hair down past his shoulders. Clyde smiled a lot when he saw it, which made Butters smile, too. The next time he went over, they didn't get much kissing practice done because they spent most of the night playing with all the new bows and ribbons Clyde had bought.

That night was the first time Clyde said, "You're so pretty, Marjorine," but it wouldn't be the last. It made Butters smile every time; it still does.

Clyde always called him "Marjorine" when they were kissing. Butters never thought anything of it, until they were twelve. Clyde had just complimented him on the new nightie he was modeling. Then he said, "Is it okay that I do that?"

"Gosh, of course!" Butters said, finishing a twirl and going over to sit next to Clyde on the bed. "Who doesn't like to be told they look nice?"

"No, I mean—that I call you 'Marjorine.'"

Clyde looked as serious as when he'd first started teaching Butters about kissing, so Butters didn't laugh, even though he thought the question was kind of silly. He did his best to look serious, too. "Well, that's who I am, right?"

As he said the words, Butters suddenly knew why Clyde looked so serious; his own expression wasn't just put on anymore. It was true: when he was with Clyde like this, he _was_ Marjorine. Maybe he couldn't be Marjorine with anyone else, but he could be for Clyde. He _was_ , with Clyde.

That seemed to settle it, or at least they didn't talk about it anymore after that. They also didn't talk about whether Marjorine was a boy or a girl, which was okay with Butters because he didn't really have an answer to that: Marjorine was just Marjorine. If it was important for Marjorine to be a girl for the kisses to count, then she could be a girl. If having a cock meant that Marjorine was a boy, then that's what he was—because he did have a cock and he knew it, and Clyde knew it, too, and both of them liked it that way.

At first Butters hadn't known that Clyde liked Marjorine's dick. Kissing had become a full-body thing, lying in bed—usually Clyde's but sometimes Butters'—in various states of undress. Various states for Clyde, that is; Marjorine always kept the nightie on, no matter what. Clyde wouldn't avoid Marjorine's cock or roll away from it when they were kissing, but he never reached for it on purpose the way Marjorine would sometimes reach for him, never touched Marjorine's cock the way he let Marjorine touch his.

Then for Clyde's 14th birthday, Butters decided to give him a surprise. He borrowed a couple of Clyde's magazines and studied the girls on the dogeared pages. Marjorine would never have curves or tits like any of them, but she could at least dress the part. He took the bus to Denver to go shopping, but he was nervous the whole time that someone from South Park would see him; still, it was better than having something delivered to the house, where chances were his mom would see the package and open it before he could get to it. And there'd be no explaining _that_ away.

Just after midnight, when it was officially Clyde's birthday, Butters knocked on Clyde's window. He knew the window would be open because Clyde was expecting him, but he always knocked because it was only polite. The light came on and Clyde came over to let him in.

"Happy birthday," Butters said when Clyde opened the window. Clyde smiled and leaned out to kiss him, but Butters put his hand up. "Not yet."

And then it was almost like that first time five years earlier, with Butters making Clyde stand facing the wall, eyes closed, while he changed. One thing that was different was that Butters knew where Clyde's mirror was now. After checking that Clyde was being good, Butters opened the closet door and surveyed himself. The hair was perfect, or as good as it was going to get, because he'd put in all the ribbons before he left his house. He put his hands over the gel breast forms filling out the cups of the green and white lace bra, giving them an assessing squeeze as he adjusted their position. They felt pretty good to him, even if they weren't the real thing.

Finally, he reached into the matching lace panties, spread his legs, and tucked Marjorine's cock between them, fixing it out-of-sight with the special tape he'd bought in Denver. He checked in the mirror: Marjorine looked real pretty, he thought. He hoped Clyde would think so, too.

She turned around and struck the pose she'd picked from the magazine pictures, standing with her legs close together and crossed at the ankles, chest pushed out, a cascade of blonde locks and velvet ribbons falling over her shoulders. She looked down to check the tuck and, satisfied with it, clasped her hands at the small of her back to complete the pose. Then she look a deep breath, held some of it in her lungs to push her chest out even more, and let a little out as she said, "Okay, you can turn around now."

Their eyes met briefly before Clyde's traveled down. His smile faded the farther down her body his gaze dropped. Marjorine felt her smile start to quiver, but she held it as steady as she could.

Clyde's gaze stopped between her legs and stayed there. Marjorine almost reached down to make sure the tuck was still in place, but she knew it was; she could feel it. He kept looking there and she didn't know what to do, and finally she decided she should just apologize for messing up his birthday like this and go home, and maybe send Clyde an email asking if they could forget this had happened.

"Oh jeez, I'm real sorry—"

"No." Clyde looked up to meet Marjorine's eyes, held her gaze as he crossed the room, kept looking as he knelt at her feet. He wasn't smiling and neither was Marjorine, but now it didn't feel bad not to smile. She opened her mouth when he put his hands on her hips, on the bare skin above her waistband, but only a fluttery breath came out. He kissed her just below her bellybutton, looking up to see her response. When she rested her hand on his head, he closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her belly again, then trailed down over her panties until he was kissing her where her legs met.

She couldn't help squirming, her fingers tightening in his hair, her breath coming quicker; quicker still when he wormed his thumb under the elastic leg band and ran it along her skin. When he started working his other hand between her legs, Marjorine tightened her muscles.

"Clyde~ don't, you'll mess it up."

"I won't mess up anything." He sat back on his heels and looked up, but his hand stayed where it was. "Please." His fingertips nudged at her, trying to burrow between her legs. "It's my birthday, and this is what I want." The color along his cheekbones deepened, but he didn't look away.

Marjorine felt herself flush, too, but if Clyde was brave enough to keep looking at her, she would be brave enough to return the gaze. And anyhow he was right: it _was_ his birthday and she _had_ brought herself as the present. "Well, all right, then," she heard herself say.

Her heart thumped hard at the smile Clyde gave her then, setting off the flutters. She uncrossed her feet, widening her stance as he slipped his hand between her thighs and slid it up to her restrained cock, making her shiver as he stroked her through the panties. She tried to catch the whimper that rose from her throat when he pushed the panties aside and touched her, but it rode her exhale out.

His fingertips hovered, rested on her cock, caressing the edge of the tape. "Can you take this off?" His thumbnail worried at the corner of the tape. "I don't want to hurt you."

Marjorine didn't know how her blood could rise to her face when so much of it was rushing to her cock, but it did. She nodded and turned around, even though she didn't really need the mirror and he could see her in it, anyhow. As she reached between her legs, she glanced at his reflection: he was still kneeling facing her, but he'd tipped his face down, eyes lowered. It made her want to tell him he could look, if he wanted. It made her want to tell him that if the girls ever made another list and she got to vote, she'd put him at number one and not for his looks, even though she did think he was pretty good looking.

She didn't do either of those things, but he also made her want to smile and, as she carefully removed the tape, she let her lips curve up. Her cock slapped against her belly; even when she tugged the panties up as high as they would go, her cockhead was still peeking out of the top of the waistband. After trying a couple of different things, she settled for arranging it along the crease of her thigh before she turned back around.

Clyde must have heard her turning, but he stayed as he was, even when she touched his head. "You can look now, if you want."

He smiled up at her and, as he knelt up, she figured he was going to kiss her dick through the panties or maybe pull them down—but he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned against her, rubbing his cheek over her skin.

Her cock was harder than she could remember it ever being and the butterflies were still fluttering through her, but they weren't as wild. It felt nice and, even though she wasn't sure what he was doing and thought maybe he wasn't sure either, she let him stay like that as long as he wanted.

When she felt him start to move she expected him to look up, but he went down instead, brushing his cheek along her cock; turning to trace it with his lips. She felt the damp heat through the panties when he licked her length, and she didn't even try to stop the mewling whimpers spilling from her this time.

She thought she'd be prepared for it when he finally dragged down the waistband of the panties and freed her cock, but the first kiss took her breath away in a soft gasp as his lips slid open against her, the tip of his tongue tracing her slit, lapping up the drops of precome that had started to stain the panties. When he opened wider to take her cockhead into his mouth and his palm pressed against her sac, massaging, she felt her knees weaken just like the girls in the yellowing romance paperbacks she'd found in a box out in the garage once.

"Clyde~"

He looked up as her fingers dug into his shoulders for support. "You want me take you over to the bed, Baby Doll?"

She didn't know if he said it with capitalization, but it was the first time he'd ever used a pet name for her and she heard it that way. She nodded, smiling, the question already forgotten but it didn't matter because she wanted to say yes to everything he asked tonight.

He held her hand as they went over to his bed; she thought he might carry her and tumble her into it like she imagined the princes do to Disney princesses off-screen, but this was nice too. She lay down on her back, then pushed up onto an elbow and arranged her hair so she wasn't lying on it.

"Hey, um—do you want these on or off?"

He had his top off when she looked, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pajama bottoms, tugging them away from his hips in question. She knew there was nothing but him underneath.

"Off, please."

He flashed her a grin, bending to guide the waistband down and stepping out of the pajamas as they pooled at his feet. He had a nice body, not as lean as the superhero Butters had started fooling around with, but nice. Very nice, if you asked her. She wondered now, like she sometimes couldn't help doing, if Clyde ever compared her body to Bebe's or any of the other girls he dated.

They kind of had a rule about not talking about that stuff to each other. Butters had only done it once, to tell Clyde how happy he was that Clyde liked falling in love with people as much as Butters did. Clyde had smiled but hadn't said anything back, and that's how Butters realized there was a rule. He hadn't broken it since.

Anyhow, Marjorine didn't really need to ask Clyde about her body, definitely not now as he got onto the bed and settled on his stomach between her legs. He started licking and nuzzling her again, only pausing to sit up and tug at her waistband. She lifted her hips and watched him work the panties down, exposing her fully. He bent to kiss her cockhead again, the flick of his tongue a tease before he sat up and slid the panties farther down.

"You can tear them off," she said.

He looked at her, serious even though he was smiling. "I would never do that." He shifted to the side and she put her legs closer to each other to make it easier for him to get the panties down.

She spread her legs again as soon as the panties were off and he accepted the invitation, resettling himself between them. He cupped her sac and then bent to replace his hand with his mouth, and as Marjorine's eyes fell shut, she understood why Eric had been so obsessed with this for so long.

Clyde licked his way up to her cockhead, coming off with a kiss, only to touch his tongue tip to the base and lick up again, over and over, until she was squirming and whimpering. He lifted his head to hush her, reminding her his parents were only a couple of rooms away, and she dutifully covered her mouth, catching her moans in her cupped hand.

Her own hand wasn't enough when he finally opened his lips against her cockhead and slid down, enveloping her in his mouth. He reached up and, as he pressed his hand to her lips, she let her own slide away, the fingers of both hands burrowing into his hair. She turned her head, her tongue desperately flashing out for his thumb, drawing it into her mouth as she felt her cockhead nudging the back of his throat. She reckoned she'd gag if something nudged her like that, but Clyde opened and she slid down deeper inside him. She tried to go down farther on his thumb but the entire thing was already in her mouth; licking at it, she pushed it against the roof of her mouth to make him feel as snug and secure as he was making her feel, and they sucked each other like that until all her beautiful tension broke and spilled, liquid, out of her.

She didn't open her eyes until she felt him lying beside her, his fingers brushing her skin as he played with her hair.

"Did you like it?" he asked when their eyes met.

She grinned. "You bet I did!"

Smiling back, he sighed like his breath had been waiting on her answer.

"Hey." Her smile softened but didn't fade out as she studied him thoughtfully. "Do you think you could teach me to kiss like that?"

"Yeah." His smile flashed wider before he said, "Will you do something for me first, though? Will you come here and kiss me while I get myself off?"

"Oh!" She glanced down at his cock, blood-darkened, his hand wrapped around the base. "I can do that for you."

His hand slid up to block hers before she could touch him. "I just want you to kiss me, okay?"

"I can do both." Hand resting on his where he was holding himself, she studied his face. "Unless I've been doing it wrong? Don't you like the way I do it?"

"I love the way you do it," he said so seriously she couldn't do anything but believe him. "I just—" His eyes slid away. "Can we just do it like this?"

She kissed his cheek. "It's your birthday. We can do whatever you want, mister. However you want to do it."

He'd always liked it when she called him "mister," and sure enough he got a little blush as he smiled now and lifted his face to kiss her lips. It occurred to her that maybe he was hearing it capitalized, maybe he'd been hearing it that way all along. She wondered if it might make a good comic book: _The Adventures of Mister & Baby Doll_. Picturing the cover art, she smiled into the kiss, now slipping her tongue into his mouth, now breathing into him, her hand riding his as he stroked himself off.

That had been four years ago exactly: tonight, just after midnight, Butters will be climbing through Clyde's window to help him celebrate his 18th birthday. This is a pretty big one and Butters has been thinking hard about what would be special enough to give Clyde. It took him a while, but he's pretty sure he has the best gift ever—okay, maybe not the best, but pretty darn close, or at least the closest he can get to it.

Maybe someone smarter would have figured it out a long time ago, but Butters only cottoned on in the past few weeks, and only because of luck. Well, luck and Kenny.

At first he hadn't realized the luck part was lucky: it was because he was still chewing a last bite of cupcake when he rounded the corner of the science building that he hadn't immediately called out to Clyde and Craig when he saw them. Because of that, they didn't see him and they kept talking, their voices getting louder. Even though Butters couldn't hear what they were saying, he knew a fight when he saw one and he was about to turn right around and leave them to their own business, but he wasn't fast enough and he saw Clyde reach for Craig, saw Craig shake him off, and Craig was the one to walk away. Clyde called his name but Craig didn't turn around the first time or the second time, and Clyde gave up then. He leaned back against the building and slid down the wall, his hands going up over his face. Butters wanted to go to him, but then he'd have to admit that he'd been standing here spying on them. Then he realized he was still spying on Clyde, so he did what he should've done sooner and left Clyde in private.

Butters didn't know what it all meant; and that was where Kenny came in. Even though Kenny broke Butters' heart last year, they're still good friends and talk together a lot. One of the things they talk about is whoever Kenny is "getting with" (which Butters knows is Kenny's way of saying "in love with" without having to use those words, even if Kenny doesn't know it himself) because Butters likes to know that Kenny isn't lonely, and Kenny—well, Kenny likes to tell sexy stories. When Kenny told Butters that he'd started hooking up with Craig, everything fell into place and Butters knew what to get Clyde for his birthday.

He looks up at Clyde's window now. He wonders if he and Clyde will be able to stay friends after this, the way he and Kenny did after Kenny broke his heart. He really hopes so. But even if it doesn't work out like that, Clyde deserves the best birthday ever and Butters is determined to try to give it to him.

So he climbs up the ponderosa pine, like he has so many times before. He usually knocks on the window right away when he gets to it, but this time he pauses and looks in. The lights are on but Clyde doesn't see him yet; he's engrossed in something he's reading, on his side in bed. When Butters raps his knuckles lightly, Clyde looks up, pulling out his earbuds when he sees it's Butters. Butters used to think it was kind of cute how Clyde would always look at the window like he didn't know who could be coming to see him like this, but that was before Butters knew about Craig. Well, not that he _knows_ , exactly: he doesn't know whether what he saw was a break-up or a rejected confession. Not that it matters what he knows, of course; he'd want to give Clyde the same present either way.

Clyde is smiling as he raises the window. When it's pushed all the way up, he braces both hands on the sill and leans through to kiss Butters. "Hey," he murmurs. His smile is so sweet, it makes Butters smile curl down to his toes. He can't hardly wait to see the way Clyde is going to smile when Butters gives him his present.

He scrambles through the window when Clyde steps aside for him. "Okay, Mister," he says, holding up the bag with his outfit for tonight, "you know the drill!"

Clyde doesn't have to be told twice; with another smile, he turns to face the wall. Before Butters starts undressing or taking things out of the bag, he checks on Clyde in the mirror. He's only ever caught Clyde peeking once, years ago; Butters made him promise not to do it again and Clyde has kept his word, but Butters looks anyhow, just in case this is the last time he gets to see Clyde facing the wall in anticipation like this.

Even though Butters has been practicing with all the pieces of the new outfit ever since he started putting it together, he spends more time than usual in the mirror. The truth is, he had two ideas for Clyde's present and he actually put both of them together. But he can only give one, and this is the one he finally decided on. He hopes it's the right one.

Taking a deep breath, he turns around. "Okay. You can look now."

Clyde turns at the words and, just like on his 14th birthday, his smile fades and he goes quiet. But unlike four years ago, he doesn't come across the room to kiss Butters: he turns away.

Butters looks at himself in the mirror again: the blue of the nightie may not be the exact right shade, but he's sure the short, black wig is pretty darn perfect. He sighs. Maybe he was wrong about this. Maybe he should have come as _boy_ -Craig.

When he turns around again, Clyde is sitting on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. Butters can't tell if he's crying or not, but he sure does seem upset. For a moment, Butters wonders just who is breaking whose heart tonight.

He goes over and sits next to Clyde. "There, there." He soothes his hand along Clyde's spine. "It'll be all right."

Clyde takes a visible breath before he lets his hands drop and turns to look at Butters. His face doesn't look wet, but his eyes are the littlest bit glassy. His gaze drifts up from Butters' eyes and he takes another hard breath; then he reaches up and tugs, but the wig is pinned in place and doesn't come away.

Butters looks down as he slides the pins out and pulls the wig off. He's still looking down when Clyde takes it out of his hands. He shifts sideways, watching Clyde holding the wig in his lap, his fingers gliding over the glossy, short, dark locks.

"I just wanted you to have what you want for your birthday," Butters says softly. He doesn't realize he's rubbing his fists against each other until Clyde puts a hand over them, stilling them.

"I do have what I want," Clyde says.

They sit looking at each other.

"But." Butters stops at the sound of his own voice breaking the silence. He swallows and tries again, softer: "But Craig's not here."

Clyde doesn't say anything but he's looking at Butters, and his look is telling Butters that he got something wrong somewhere. Butters goes over everything in his mind and he can't really figure it out, but he doesn't want the silence to take over again, so he takes a guess: "You aren't sad about Craig?"

Clyde shakes his head, but he still doesn't say anything.

"Are you." Butters looks down, watching the knuckles of his hands bump up against each other on a field of blue. "Are you sad about me?"

He glances up to see Clyde nodding.

Before he thinks about what he's doing, Butters hugs him, arms wound around Clyde's neck. He lets Clyde pull him closer. "Don't be sad about me, Clyde," Butters whispers to him. "I don't mind. I don't mind at all." He closes his eyes, letting his heart fill with all the love he has for Clyde, because he likes to be full to overflowing when he breaks. "I liked being practice for you, for him."

He finds himself pushed out of the embrace, much sooner than he would have liked. Even so, he's proud of himself for being able to smile at Clyde.

Clyde isn't smiling, though. He looks closer to crying than ever. Butters feels the fissures starting in his heart. He tries to hug Clyde again, to tell him they'll still be friends; Butters always stays friends, if the other person wants to.

But Clyde takes him by the arms before he can get close enough. Butters gets it; when Clyde lets go, Butters doesn't try to hug him again. "Do you want to be friends still?" He's hopeful, but he knows it's only polite to give Clyde a way out, so he adds, "I understand if you don't want to."

"I don't think you do," Clyde says. "I don't think you understand anything. Butters, you were never—you weren't practice for him. _He_ was practice for _you_."

"What?" For a second Butters can only look at Clyde. Then, even though he's still confused, he feels the furrow of his brow smooth and he laughs. "Gosh, Clyde—why would you need to practice for me?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Clyde looks away. "I wanted it to be good for you." He shrugs helplessly. "I wanted you to like it with me."

"Clyde." Even when Butters touches his shoulder, Clyde won't look at him, so Butters swings his leg over to sit himself in Clyde's lap, hands on Clyde's shoulders. "Listen, Mister—I always like it with you." He wants to see Clyde's face so much right now he's tempted to put his hand under Clyde's chin and lift it, but more than that he wants Clyde to look at him when he's ready. His fingers dig into Clyde's shoulders. "I like it more with you than with anyone. Honest."

That gets Clyde to look up. He moistens his lips, holds onto his lower lip with his teeth, then lets go and opens his mouth. Butters is ready to be asked if he really means it; he's not lying even a little bit, and that's what he's going to tell Clyde.

Clyde doesn't ask him that, though. He kisses Butters. His tongue, when it slips into Butters' mouth, is sure; any question that might have been lingering on the tip gets licked away, swallowed down to melt into stirring flutters. When Clyde lies back, Butters goes with him, tucking his legs against Clyde's sides as the kissing goes on.

"Hey," Clyde says when Butters moves down to kiss along his jawline. Silk slides against Butters' skin as Clyde tugs the nightie. "Can you take this off?"

Butters sits up and, straddling Clyde's torso, pulls off the nightie, flinging it over the side of the bed. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of the matching silk panties. "These too?" Clyde nods and Butters gets to his feet to shimmy out of them. He kneels and watches as Clyde sits up to wriggle out of his pajamas.

Naked, they crawl under the covers and lie on their sides, facing each other. Butters can't remember the last time they were naked together like this, Clyde and him, Butters. He can't remember if they ever have been naked like this before. "Hey, Clyde," he says as Clyde's thumb strokes his hip bone. "Do you want to fuck me?"

Clyde swallows hard and Butters does, too.

His swallow curls up in a cold little knot in his belly when Clyde shakes his head.

Then it loosens when Clyde says, "Marjorine."

All warm and fluttery, Butters smiles. "You want to fuck Baby Doll, Mister?"

With a soft, guttural moan, Clyde leans in to kiss him again.

Butters sits up when the kiss breaks and, pushing back the covers, starts to climb over Clyde. "I can go home real quick and—"

That's as far as he gets before Clyde catches his hand. "Don't go. Just stay with me tonight, okay? If you're really ready, if you really want to, Marjorine could come over later?"

Letting himself get tangled up in Clyde's gaze, Butters nods, then slips back under the covers and snugs up for another long kiss, and a longer one after that.

When Clyde shifts against him kisses and kisses later, Butters can feel that Clyde is as hard as he is himself. "You sure you don't want to fuck me?" he teases, running a fingertip the length of Clyde's cock.

Inarticulate pleasure mingling with his choked exhale, Clyde shakes his head. "No. But, uh—you could fuck me, if you wanted?"

Butters' finger comes off Clyde and hovers. Clyde's gaze is steady and Butters doesn't break it. "You...want me to fuck you?"

Clyde nods. "That's why me and Craig are fighting right now. Or, not fighting, but. He's not really talking to me."

Butters sits up. "Craig doesn't want me to fuck you?"

"Uh, no." Clyde rolls onto his back, his arm draped across his eyes. "He does want you to. Um, like, he thinks you should be the one, when someone does."

Butters tries to process what he's hearing. What he comes up with finally is, "You told Craig about me?"

Clyde laughs at that, taking his arm away from his face to look at Butters. "He's known about us since we were like ten."

"Oh." Butters thinks about that, trying to put it into the context of the other things Clyde has said. "Well," he says at last, "I don't think I understand why you fellas are having a fight about—"

"Yeah," Clyde says quickly. "Um, well, I kind of left out the part where I asked him to fuck me."

"Oh," Butters says again; and then, "Oh!" His brow furrows. The more Clyde tries to explain, the more confused Butters is getting. "Well, if you want to—" He fumbles for how to say it, coming up with Kenny's euphemism: "That is, if you want to get with Craig—well, gosh, Clyde, you know I'll be real happy for you, no matter who you find love with!"

"Butters." Clyde sits up now, too. "I don't want to 'get with' anyone but you. Only you. It's always been you." Looking into Butters' eyes, he strokes the back of his finger along Butters' jaw. "My whole life it's been you. Or half of it, anyhow, so far." He grins. "The half that has meant anything."

No Disney princess ever got prettier words. Butters closes his eyes and tilts his face up to be kissed, sighing into Clyde's mouth when Clyde obliges.

"I don't mean to ruin the moment," Butters says once they're lying down again, settled with one another. He really _doesn't_ want to ruin the moment, but if he doesn't ask now he probably never will and he'll always wonder. "Why did you want Craig to fuck you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh. Um." Clyde sighs and shifts, but he only squirms a little, he doesn't roll away. "Don't laugh, okay?"

"I would never laugh at you, unless you were being funny on purpose," Butters tells him.

Clyde breathes deep, lets it out slowly. "I didn't want to make you hurt me. Because I think it's going to hurt the first time, and I didn't want you to feel bad or think you'd done something wrong, you know?" He pauses to swallow. There's a lot Butters wants to say, but he doesn't think Clyde is done yet, so he keeps quiet and waits. "So I just thought, if I could get the first time out of the way, then it could just be nice with you. And Craig is, like, someone I trust? And he's never had a problem teaching me other things, so I just thought he'd be okay with it, but."

This time when Clyde stops, Butters is pretty sure he's done. He strokes Clyde's hair, waiting another moment just in case. When Clyde doesn't try to talk, Butters says softly, "But he doesn't want to hurt you." Clyde shrugs. Butters keeps stroking his hair. "I can do that for you, Clyde. I can be the one to make it hurt the first time, and the one to make it feel real good every time after that."

Clyde's lips curve up at the corners. "Unbelievably good?"

"Oh, I'll make you believe it! You can count on that." Butters' faded grin lingers in his eyes as he adds, "But only when you're sure you want it. No need to rush. We got all the time in the world."

He keeps his eyes open, letting Clyde search them and find the truth in his gaze; closing them only when their lips touch.

"Do you want to sleep here?" Clyde asks when they part. "You could come to birthday brunch with us." When Butters doesn't answer right away, Clyde says, "My parents won't say anything to yours, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried about that," Butters says, although he probably would be if he stopped to think about it. He isn't thinking about it, though. He's thinking about how he's going to sleep in Clyde's bed all night for the first time, and later today, sometime before midnight, Clyde is probably going to fuck Marjorine for the first time, and some other night, one he doesn't know yet but is sure will come, he'll fuck Clyde for the first time. And in between all that, they'll do all sorts of other things, some of them firsts like holding hands under the table while they have brunch with Clyde's parents and probably Craig and maybe Bebe; some of them things they've done so many times Butters has lost count, like kissing.

Which is what they do right now. And, just like the first time they did it, it makes Butters flutter all over again.


End file.
